


Dum spiro, spero

by xenn



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate s01, Dark Stiles, I hope it worked, I think?, I tried to make this emotional, M/M, Peter is in a coma, Pre-Slash, Stiles is reading him books and stuff, but reasonably
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-09
Updated: 2017-10-09
Packaged: 2019-01-10 17:55:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12304533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenn/pseuds/xenn
Summary: "The first time he ever saw him, he was just a boy, 10 years old, with a soul already tired and broken."





	Dum spiro, spero

Stiles is making his way from the car to the hospital, obsessing over what he may find inside. They've already established that the mysterious Alpha send the message from inside the building and coincidentally, _his wolf_ was nowhere to be seen a few times over the last month, full moon included.

'He's being relocated' said the nurse, 'He's on check-up' she said another time

When Stiles connected the dots a week or two ago, his mind was whirling around a continuous 'no, no, no, no, no, no'. Because he blames himself. Sure, there are other people that deserve to feel guilty more than Stiles, but it's him who took the wolf under his wing, it's him who swore to protect and help the wolf, even if no one was there to hear the pledge.

He should have known better, he should have been coming more often, he should have understood what the changes meant, goddamnit!

He sighs deeply, remembering all these days he spent by his wolf's side.

* * *

 

The first time he ever saw him, he was just a boy, 10 years old, with a soul already tired and broken. His mother was sick and she hated him, despised.

One night, about a month in of his mother's stay in the hospital, she started feeling worse, screaming obscenities at her own son.

He remembers his eyes filling with so many tightly held tears he wasn't even able to see the direction he was running in.

He entered a room that seemed empty at first glance, and collapsed to the floor giving the tears a way out.

He might have been crying for ten minutes or ten hour, he didn't know, but when he finally picked his head up he noticed he wasn't alone in the room after all. There was a single bed in the corner, a man lying on it, wearing a hospital gown.

Stiles startled at first, but upon realising the man was unconscious, he calmed down a bit.

He came closer, the curious child he was, wiping away the last tears that stained his cheeks.

What he saw, upon coming close enough to see properly, should have frightened him immensely, but it only made him feel sad, and... a bit less lonely?

There lied a man, with godlike features almost entirely burned away, covered with red, angry scars, like a sea flooding the skin underneath. 

The man seemed broken, lying there in the dark, alone. He looked the way Stiles' little heart felt, scarred and devastated and Stiles felt some weird sort of connection to the man because of it, some support. Because there lied the man, a personification of what was happening in Stiles' souls, and the boy never wanted to let go of the man. He wanted to make the man better if only because he didn't know how to make himself better. 

He didn't say a word, just picked a chair up from the corner and sat down, grabbing the man's hand lightly.

 

When he woke up his hand was still comfortably situated in the bigger one. The sun was pouring through the window and Stiles realised he must have slept the whole night in here. Well, it's not like anyone cared about him enough to notice.

The scars on the man's skin were even more of an obscene contrast to the beautiful, clear parts of it peeking in some places. He realised, after a while, that the man looks a lot like a wolf he's been dreaming about repeatedly over the last year. 

The first time it happened Stiles woke up covered in cold swear, biting down the urge to scream, the image of a burning, blue-eyed wolf tattooed onto his mind. A few months later, however, he felt more like a friend to the wolf than an enemy or future dinner, he grew to love falling asleep if only to see his wolf, hug him, help him with the injuries, never realising how weird the dreams in itself were. 

He looked over at the unconscious man once more. 'I'll be back, wolf' he rasped, his voice stained with sleep, and left. 

 

The next time he came to his wolf was right after his mother passed away. He silently made his way to the bed, face a blank page. It took him twenty minutes to break down in tears. He didn't stop until he fell asleep, head resting next to the man's hand. 

 

Stiles began coming more often after that. It didn't matter whether it was to escape his mourning, drunk father or simply because he wanted to see the man. He started bringing his homework there, reading it out loud sometimes, which escalated to reading his favourite novels to _his wolf_. Later the novels started mixing with simple stories about his day or one's that he created in his own head, since he liked doing that a lot. 

 

When he was twelve, he made it his mission to find out as much about his wolf as he could. He already knew the man's name was Peter Hale, thanks to the cart hanging of the bed, but never really dwelled on anything more, hoping his wolf would wake up and tell Stiles about his life himself. But it's been two years, and besides a slow and weirdly miraculous heeling of the scars, there was no change in Peter's state. 

So Stiles decided to find out on his own, he was a resourceful kid after all. 

A few days later, sitting by Peter's bed, he cried. His heart hurt  _so much_ for his wolf. His chest felt like breaking in half. This man here, has been through so much, seeing his family burn then burning together with them. Stiles wondered if inside this shell of a man Peter was awake, aware, if he was trapped in his head with the picture of his family burning playing over and over. 

Stiles cried harder, not knowing how to help, how to make such a pain more tolerable. 

'Peter' he whispered, swallowing the tears 'my wolf, I'm here. I'll always be here.' he sobbed more, knowing that a stranger sitting by his bed isn't worth anything compared to his family, but maybe it's worth  _something._

 

Over the course of the next year Stiles might have started obsessing over the Peter Hale case. He bought himself a crime board, which he filled with things he knew. He knew the fire wasn't self inflicted, it was a vicious murder. He knew not every Hale died in that house that night. He didn't understand how they could leave a family member behind like that, where were they now?

He couldn't find a motive for the murders no matter how deep he digged. The Hales were a well respected family in the Beacon Hills community, never making any trouble...

 

One evening when he made himself comfortable by Peter's side, he looked at the man. Really looked at him. He took in the lifeless body, the faint rise and fall of his chest. 

 _'Dum spiro, spero'_ he whispered to the man, making use of his recent fascination with Latin. 'As long as I breathe, I will have hope' he then translated, not knowing if his wolf was familiar with the saying in it's original language.

He took Peter's hand in his, squeezing it lightly, and that's when he noticed... It looked a lot better than the last time he inspected it. The wounds have scarred a long time ago, but now-

'They're gone' he gasped. He clearly remembers that not a month ago Peter's arm was covered in scars from top to bottom, and now, there was only a faint trace of it on his shoulder. 'How-?'

How is it possible? It's literally, wholly, fully, physically impossible for a human to heal such excessive scars in such a short time. 

'For a human...' Stiles muttered, eyes going wide with excitement, as he started darting in the direction of the door, only turning back to give Peter a brief hug and a quick 'I'll be back!' 

 

'Well, the wolf in my dreams certainly would make sense if the whole Lycanthropy was a thing' Stiles tells the unconscious man a day or two later. 'It's a really crazy concept, but like, you survived a deadly fire! Your scars literally disappeared!' he sighed tiredly, then pouted his lips a little 'I just wish you could wake up and tell me'.

 

After that, it didn't take Stiles long to figure out a motive, assuming werewolves exist. Hunters hunt animals. It's as simple and morally twisted as that. 

 

Even though hate and rage and the will to avenge filled him to the brim, any research he'd done in hopes of finding the ones responsible for the fire were futile. 

 

It wasn't until he reached the age of fifteen, that he had a breakthrough. He will never forgive himself for relying on technology too much, searching for answers online and in the Police Station database. But one night it occurred to him, that not all files are transferred online, some of them simply rot in the Station's archive. 

He spend a week worth of night's there, looking and looking... until he finally found something. Two, seemingly unlinked cases. The Hale house fire, and a case of illegal weaponry found on the premises on the Argent's family house. The officer doing the paperwork did a great job, detailing each and every one item found in the arsenal. 

_Unknown material bullets. Unknown origin powder looking substances. Crossbows. Guns. Rifles. Explosives._

Stiles spent the next few days pulling all the information he could on Argents and their history, and sure enough, there wasn't a single generation that didn't take glory in their hunting skills.

He didn't know what to do with the knowledge, however, having been disappointed by the justice system quite often. The next time he visited his wolf and looked at the pathetic looking man, broken up and torn down by viscous ideals, merciless people... He swore to himself, he will end them.

'My wolf' he said in a soft voice, though the anger lingered there, somewhere ' _When_ you wake up, I'll help you' he promised in a whisper _'I'll help you make them pay.'_

 

The following year went on, Stiles appearing by Peter's side at least once a week, reading to him, waiting, always saying hello and goodbye with _'D_ _um spiro, spero' ._

Because it was true, he did have hope, still, after all these years. He would never leave his wolf, he would never lose hope. If he truly was a werewolf, he would wake up eventually. 

And after all Peter has done for him, that's the least Stiles could do in return. It might sound ridiculous to any outsider, but Stiles would have probably given up on trying to live without Peter, the man that he never actually spoke with.

With the way his life was, his mother slowly killing him with her words then leaving him forever, his father drinking his sorrows away and either forgetting about his existence or blaming him for all the bad that happened, and his only friend, Scott, always having not quite enough time to listen or help, Peter... Peter was the only constant. Visiting Peter was the one thing that gave him peace, that made him breathe with ease. He realised how pitiful it would sound to anyone but him... And that's exactly why nobody ever knew. 

 

But then something changed. A body of a woman ripped in half, a rough Alpha biting Scott, Derek Hale suddenly coming to town. 

The moment Stiles lied his eyes on Derek, he felt the undeniable urge to tear him apart, for leaving his wolf to rot, to suffer alone... But he's not the one Stiles is after. Kate Argent is. So he kept his cool, playing along whatever storyline Scott chose, not ever saying a word about the girl his friend fell for, but always watching her close. 

No matter what, he kept visiting Peter, noticing more and more of clear skin showing. 

 

Not realising Peter was the Alpha up until recently is possibly the lowest point in his detective history. 

But now, as his making his was though the corridor, he's giddy with excitement.

Maybe he shouldn't be, maybe... After all, that man killed his own niece and bit Scott, however for all he'd gathered about werewolves, not being able to be free during the full moon for a long time and being left by your own pack does horrible things to your mind. And it's Stiles who should have prevented that. It's Stiles who  _swore to help his wolf._

He only hoped Peter is not feral any more, that his wolf is okay. 

He stops halfway through to answer his phone. 'What.' he snaps at Derek, who's currently waiting for him in the Jeep.

'Stiles, you need to get out of there!' he hears him say in a panicked voice 'It's Peter! Peter is th-' Stiles ends the call, rolling his eyes. 

He moves forward, his heart racing. He stops abruptly upon seeing a man standing a few meters away with his back to Stiles. 

The man slowly turns around, making Stiles gasp. It's Peter. Up. Alive. Aware. Away from the bed he'd spent so many years in.

There are so many emotions going through Peter's face right now. Fear, surprise, longing, relief, happiness. 'Stiles...' he whispers, his voice so smooth and long awaited, his eyes never leaving the man before him. 

And Stiles doesn't know what to do. What do you do in such a situation? What do you do when you finally get to talk to someone you spend years having one sided conversations with?!

'Nice Super Villain cosplay' Stiles does what he always does. He fends off any emotions with sarcasm. And there are so many emotions building up in him right now...

Peter looks down at his all black outfit and leather coat and lets out a huff of laugher, smirking up at Stiles. It should look dangerous, the smirk, Stiles knows it, but it just... doesn't.

Stiles is facing an Alpha werewolf, a killer as of recently, but all he can feel is happiness, completion. 

Of course Sourwolf just  _had to_ ruin their awkward/beautiful/intimate moment. 

'Stiles, run!' Derek growls, appearing by Stiles' side, making him snort. 'What the hell are you doing?! He's the Alpha! Run!'

Stiles can see Derek getting ready for an attack, while Peter just stands there, amusement lingering in his eyes. Just as Derek's about to strike, Stiles puts a firm hand on his chest, pushing him back just a millimetre, since his human strength doesn't allow him to do more.

'No' he whispers, slowly making his way in Peter's direction. Derek must be stunned by the shock since he doesn't move or say anything up until Stiles is on the other side of the hallway. He starts shouting and screaming. Something about Stiles being insane? Eh, it doesn't matter. 

Nothing else matters as he looks into the deep blue of his wolf's eyes. The eye's he's only ever seen closed. 

'I thought I dreamt you' Peter whispers, his breath ghosting over Stiles' face. 

Stiles smiles, just a bit. 'I'm real. I've always been.' he brings his hand up a bit, caressing the remaining scars on his wolf's face 'And I always will be.' 

Peter furrows his brows and a second later the scars are gone from under his fingers. 

 _'D_ _um spiro, spero'_ his wolf says, gently catching the hand on his cheek.

 _'D_ _um spiro, spero'_ the human repeats.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't plan to continue this as of now, but I do find the prospect appealing ;) Let me know if you would maybe like to read more of it :)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comment and kudos are always a nice thing to receive :)
> 
> [if you want to check out my tumblr :)](http://appreciatelove.tumblr.com)


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